ObiWan's Dream
by Dalara
Summary: Obi-Wan sees a dream. But is it just a dream?


Title: Obi-Wan's Dream

Author: Jedi-Nifet

Disclaimer: I don't own anything here, except for the idea. Obi-Wan, Amidala, her children and their galaxy belong to George Lucas.

The valley description part was corrected by Aunecah_Skywalker, for which I am very thankful.

Any comments are highly appreciated. Read and tell me what do you think.

He didn't notice when the dream started: it crept up on him stealthily and then suddenly enveloped him in its sweet embrace, prompting him to forget all the pain, all guilt, all regret of the real life – feelings that became his constant companions in the last years. The dream persuaded him to leave it all behind and succumb to the blissful wonderland it offered. Obi-Wan couldn't resist any longer glad to be rid of his miserable existence for at least some fleeting time that was night.

The first thing he saw, when he closed his eyes and stopped existing in the known galaxy, was a thick fog – grey, dull and numbing. It flowered before him, swayed like a mass of jelly. And it felt like Obi-Wan was suddenly dumped into a huge barrel of viscous goo. Fear gripped at his heart for a moment, sending its cold tendrils through his body, but released him almost immediately, leaving just a lingering memory. The fog started to die away, transforming into usual mist. His line of vision finally clear, Obi-Wan saw a large picture before him – beautiful but completely flat, like a poster on a wall. But as soon as he made a step towards it the picture started to deepen, transform into three-dimensional image; and soon he found himself inside the picture.

It was a very beautiful place – the most beautiful he had ever seen before. But it didn't matter now. What did matter was that he was at this moment at this very place and he could afford to think of nothing else. The thoughts that usually plagued him, tearing him apart in his endless loneliness, have left him for the quiet peacefulness of this place. 

He stood on a small hill, from the top of which he could see an open panorama: a breathtaking view showed itself to him cautiously. He could see a valley, surrounded by trees - he didn't know if it was forest or just a park. The valley was covered with grass: from the place he stood, the grass seemed to be an expensive carpet, which someone carefully and skillfully has embroidered by patterns of bright – almost glowing with colour – flowers growing here and there. 

A small river ran along one edge of the valley, its graceful bend separated one third of the valley from all the rest. It dived from the forest, ran through the valley – as a nymph – and hid back into the forest as if afraid of stranger's eyes. Few paths crossed the valley. One of these paths flew towards the river and having reached it turned into a graceful bridge with a white figured lattice. Round marble vases stood vigil on the four sides of the bridge as though protecting a passage. From the place where he stood it seemed like the bridge was looking into the water as though asking the river if the pattern of the bridge's lattice fit it. 

Another path went along the river bank, it crossed the first one perpendicularly as if it wanted to argue what direction was more preferable. This path followed the river faithfully but then, as though tempted by other beauty, escaped towards a structure, standing proudly in a small distance from the river: a rotunda that has surrounded its yellow slender body with white columns. It seemed that some giant hadn't eaten his fancy cake and then absent-mindedly had forgotten it in this deserted place. Several steps from the lonely rotunda the forest began, as though the trees wanted to protect its fragile beauty from the possible undesired visitors. Trees leaned towards it tenderly, promising protection, stroking the rotunda with their branches of gentle green colour. 

The sky looked at all this harmony from high above - its colour such a pale blue it seemed white. It looked like the sky had lowered some kind of a cover on the valley to hide the untouched beauty from the eyes of an outsider. But the pensive fog slowly receded under beams of the sun, which was slowly climbing up the white stairs of clouds. Mesmerized by this quiet calmness Obi-Wan began to go down as silently as possible to not break the peace of this place. 

Something tempted him to go to rotunda, and he took the path along the river. Fine gravel rumbled quietly under his boots – but not like sand on Tatooine, not the dry sound of sand that saw rain so rarely, if ever did. He stopped to simply take in the place with all its beauty: beauty of sight, beauty of air – filled with astringent scent of flowers unknown to him – beauty of sounds. Then he resumed his walk and in the end came to the rotunda. 

'Temple of Friendship' flashed in his mind and he instantly knew it to be the title of the rotunda. He walked around it, finally finding a door; it wasn't closed and he entered without hesitation. The room was round and dark, the only source of light being a small fire in the center of it, sitting on a short thick column – a cut copy of those outside. Warily Obi-Wan approached the fire; sudden cold – icy cold of void – enveloped him and he reached for the fire to drive the cold away.

A shadow came to the fire across from him – it seemed darker that the darkness itself – it had no face, nothing, just a silhouette of a person in cloak. 

"This light is mine to extinguish," it breathed – its breath turned into wind making the fire flicker, flames timidly press themselves to the column. 

"This light is mine to protect," Obi-Wan replied. Flames rose at his words, encouraged.

"Protect what is still alive," the shadow answered with a snarl and motioned towards the door. Then with a quick move it wiped the flames away, leaving the column bare. 

Obi-Wan turned and ran outside – something crying out to him to hurry. Outside was still the beautiful valley, but its peace was dispelled by sonorous shouts of joy – two children were running around a woman, playing. Obi-Wan gasped when recognition hit him.

"Padme," he whispered, his heart starting to beat vehemently, tears of happiness blurring his vision. It was too long.

Quiet as his whisper was she heard it. She stood and smiled at him – so young – there were no traces of grieve on her face. She called her children to her and hugged them both, then pushed them towards Obi-Wan.

"Protect them," she said to him, still smiling, but now her smile was sad, filled with untold grief – and everything around her seemed to become sad with her, the brightness suddenly going away from the valley.

"I promise," he said – as he had done so many times – and he hoped beyond hope that he will keep his promise this time. He hugged the children as close to him as he could. They suddenly became two stones in his hands, and he put them in his pocket, knowing they will be safe there.

A shadow crossed Padme's face – the young face aged in moments – and she slowly sank to the ground unable to hold herself upright anymore. A horrible feeling of apprehension rose in Obi-Wan, his breath hitched in his throat as he rushed to her side. Carefully he lifted her small – and oh so fragile – frame onto his lap. She smiled up at him – a ghost of a smile – and brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. 

"I have to go," she said in a faint voice, her breathing suddenly hard and laboured.

"No! You can't!" he shouted. He couldn't let go of yet another friend – too many were already gone, too few were left. 

"I must," her lips trembled, but her hazel eyes gazed into his blue-green ones firmly, telling him that there was nothing he could do, pleading with him to let go. 

"No," he repeated in a whisper, still unable to accept. 

"Be blessed, Obi-Wan Kenobi. And may the Force be with you," Padme whispered back. Then her eyes closed, her body went limp – and light as a fluff. He held her tighter, unshed tears blurring his sight. Then she was gone, disappeared – like mist in the morning – leaving him alone, broken. 

A sob escaped him, wracking all his body, a tear slid from his closed eye, leaving its trace on his cheek and falling on a pillow. A pillow?! He opened his eyes: he was back in his small hut on Tatooine, the first sun just started to enter the sky, bringing morning with it. A desperate – incredible – hope rose in him: what if it was just a dream?! What if everything could be changed?! What if Padme could live?! Holding his breath he reached into the Force to find that presence there, the presence he needed to find. 

But what he found has left him empty. His dream – no, his vision – came to weight down on him with all its awful clarity. He broke into a cry, a cry of grieve, of hope shattered into tiny pieces, feeling his heart flow away with every drop of his tears. 

When the message came to his comm. unit he already knew what was written there: 

'Amidala has died.'


End file.
